


Oh My God, We're Going to Die

by iamajdandagreaser



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Oliver Queen/Barry Allen, M/M, POV Barry Allen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 18:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12305439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamajdandagreaser/pseuds/iamajdandagreaser
Summary: Oliver doesn't have a backup plan or an exit strategy or anything.





	Oh My God, We're Going to Die

Barry Allen, the fastest man alive, can't seem to get over the fact that even without superpowers, Oliver Queen might be the most talented man alive. 

In the course of one night, he's dodged dozens of bullets, physically incapacitated multiple assailants, disarmed a bomb, saved the day, looked too damn good for being all hot and sweaty in those tight leather pants (dear lord, Barry thinks to himself) and somehow managed to walk away without a scratch.

Barry, however, has managed to be bruised and kicked and scratched and sore and right now all he wants to do is collapse under the stream of hot water in his tiny shower and whine because even with super healing, his shattered patella hurts like hell.

Oliver turns to him with the faintest of smiles. "I think you're starting to get the hang of this, Flash," he says.

All Barry can do is moan in pain, and Oliver starts towards him with a look of concern, but he's interrupted half-way to the speedster when another arrow, this one black and angry looking, whooshes through the air and embeds itself in Barry's other knee.

In seconds, they're surrounded by the all-too-familiar black hoods of the League of Assassins. They're both exhausted. Oliver is running low on arrows, and Barry is out of commission. He doesn't have the half hour that it will take for him to be able to move quickly enough to save both of their asses. 

Oliver throws himself in front of Barry and swings wildly out at the first black clad bad guy that comes at him. His bow connects with bone and the man goes down with a yell and a crunch. Soon, Oliver is fending off Leaguers left and right, while Barry grits his teeth and rips the arrow from his knee with a howl of pain.

"What's our exit strategy?" he shouts over the noise, once he's able to breathe again.

"Our what?" Oliver says. Teams Arrow and Flash are frantically clamoring in Barry's ear, too panicked and rushed for him to decipher anything they're saying.

"Oh my god, we're going to die," Barry shrieks, hearing his voice shoot up about two octaves before cracking like it did when he was twelve.

Oliver rolls his eyes, and with one final and savage kick to someone's solar plexus, he reaches down and hauls Barry to his feet, wrapping one very firm bicep around the younger hero's slender shoulders. He notches his last arrow onto his bow, points it skyward, and suddenly, the ground is falling away from under Barry's red leather boots and all he can do it yelp in surprise before clutching onto Oliver for dear life.

When he finally opens his eyes, he's laying on his back on a rooftop. The only noise is the quiet rush of traffic below, and Oliver is bending over him. Barry notices that the mask that he made for the Arrow so many Christmases ago is hanging around Oliver's neck, and the greasepaint is smudged around those beautiful blue eyes. 

"See? I did have an exit strategy," Oliver points out.

"You could have told me," Barry says. "Stress like that isn't good for the heart."

"Neither are arrows to the knee," Oliver retorts, and somewhere in his ear Barry hears Cisco commenting on the fact that did Oliver freaking Queen just make a Skyrim reference?

"Shut up," Barry mumbles and tries to struggle to his feet. Oliver's hand on his shoulder is firm, hauling him upward, and Barry clutches onto Oliver's shoulder again for the second time that night, trying to get his balance. 

"Thanks," Barry says.

"For what?" Oliver asks.

Barry grins, and leans in to kiss Oliver. "For always having my back, even if it is totally your fault you're going to have to carry me home," he whispers. 

For once, Oliver doesn't have some kind of sarcastic remark. He just gives Barry one of those rare, rare smiles, the kind that lights up his face and makes Barry's world go round. He gives Barry one last kiss, and then scoops him up. "Ready to go, Flash?" he asks, and Barry just sighs with both pain and happiness. 

He doesn't mind the fact that they're never going to hear the end of this one from their teams. He's alive, and Oliver is not only alive but carrying him home and in that moment, all is right with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from a prompt on Pinterest and the fact that my mother always contrasts the fact that Oliver Queen is so damn tough and Barry Allen is always getting his, and I quote, "adorable little butt handed to him."


End file.
